Gauntlet

by Holly Jennings

  She exhaled and shook her head. “You say that like it’s nothing. I wish I’d been that levelheaded when I was your age.”

  I laughed. Levelheaded? Oh, Jessica. How little you know me. “Buying out the team might not have been the brightest thing to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I rested my arms against the banister and leaned closer to her. “Money is tight. Most team owners can spend whatever they want on their teams. Plus, they have management experience. I don’t have much of either, and I’m asking my teammates to put their careers on the line for that.”

  “Your teammates believe in you,” she said. “Otherwise, they would have left.”

  Maybe that was the real reason Cole didn’t stay with the team.

  Jessica moved a little closer still and lowered her voice. “If you have a dream, then you just have to do it. You can’t let money, or experience, or anything else become an obstacle. Never bow down to the world. Always make it bow down to you.”

  “I plan on it.”

  She grinned. “I’m not surprised.” She rested her arm against the balcony and looked out over the room. “I’m happy you’re in this tournament. It’s the first time we get to face off against each other.”

  My stomach hit the floor. I didn’t know why I hadn’t realized it before. If she was at this dinner, then of course her team would be in the tournament, and I’d be fighting against my idol. On national television. In the biggest tournament in all of virtual gaming.

  “And,” she added, “it’s the last time we’ll play together.”

  I took a step back. Did she mean this was the only time we’d be in the same tournament? Why would she say something like that?

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. “I’m sure if this tournament is a success, they’ll host another all-star—”

  Jessica shook her head. “After this tournament is over, I’m announcing my retirement.”

  Now my stomach went right through the floor.

  “W-What?” I stuttered. “Why?”

  “I’ve been a part of the VGL since the beginning of full-immersion gaming. I’ve been at it for eleven years. It’s time for something else. And what better game to retire on than the VGL’s first all-star tournament?”

  “But you’re the female gamer. We all look up to you. You broke records previously held by guys and were the youngest to ever do so.”

  She smirked. “Sound familiar?”

  I went a little numb then, as if I’d never realized that before, either. Yeah, it sounded familiar. Like, whenever someone spoke my name.

  Jessica leaned toward me and lowered her voice again.

  “When I was the first woman in the VGL, I figured it was something I could build my career on. I could use it to my advantage, exploit it to the nth degree. Over time I realized that it’s not about you as an individual. It’s about your team, and how much you can build each other up, especially when you fall.”

  I smiled. “Yeah. I was the same way when they named me captain.”

  Jessica moved even closer. “And then, once I started setting records and making history, I realized it was about something even bigger. I was forging a path for the women behind me, making their journey easier and altogether proving we deserved to be here. I know that now, and I know how important it is. It’s not something I’d ever give up. Not unless I was absolutely sure there was someone ready to take my place.”

  She pushed herself off the railing and looked straight into my eyes.

  “I think I’m ready to pass the torch.”

  Then she offered me a smile and walked away, toward her team, leaving me standing next to the balcony alone. As she left, she glanced over her shoulder at me.

  “I’ll see you in the arena, Kali.”

  What the hell just happened?

  I could just imagine what I looked like. Run over by a car, maybe. There was no way I was ready to pick up her mantle, if I ever would be. She was Jessica Salt. I was, ugh—me. My stomach, which had sunk through the floor long ago, was now drifting somewhere near the Earth’s molten core.

  Clinking glasses pulled my attention to the top of the stairs. Mr. Tamachi stood at the very center, against the railing, smiling out at the crowd. Speech time. The clamor of the crowd rumbled down to a murmur.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Tamachi said, his voice booming across the room. Must have been hidden mics and speakers somewhere. “Since the turn of the century, eSports has grown from console games on tube televisions to fully immersive virtual reality, from local competitions in convention-center basements to the biggest sport in the world. Tamachi Industries is excited and proud to be a part of virtual gaming’s evolution by introducing artificial intelligence into the pods, creating a better, safer experience for all.”

  The crowd erupted into applause. Even a few cheers rang out. Tamachi smiled and made a calming motion with his hands, as if he didn’t deserve the praise. He spread out his arm to the side, motioning to a woman against the far side of the balcony.

  “Now a few words from the VGL. Please allow me to introduce Diana Foote, the Director of Programming.”

  Everyone clapped again.

  She stepped forward, smiling at us all. It was a genuine smile that touched her eyes this time, but I saw right through it. We were probably all dollar signs in her head. She waited for the applause to die before addressing the crowd.

  “The VGL is honored to host this unprecedented event,” she said, her voice stretching across the room just as Tamachi’s had. “Tonight, we are joined by teams from gaming leagues from around the world. The VGL would like to thank Mr. Tamachi for the use of his home, both tonight and for the remainder of the tournament.”

  The room filled with applause once again.

  “The American teams will be plugging in from their own facilities and the international teams will be utilizing the pods Mr. Tamachi has made available in his home. But the final championship will take place right here in Los Angeles at the Riot Games Arena. And whatever is inside that final round, waiting for you, will remain a secret until the final four teams are inside. No maps will be revealed. No clues will be given. You’ll have no way to prepare, putting you to the ultimate test. You’re here to prove you’re the best, and you’ll be challenged accordingly.”

  Which meant, if we made it to the final four, we’d have no way to practice for the final matchup and the life-changing grand prize. One hundred million dollars. To any athlete in any sport in the world, that was unheard of.

  Diana glanced behind her and smiled at Tamachi. “I’ve been speaking quite a bit with Mr. Tamachi about what he has planned for this tournament. He’s not saving everything for the final round. You might even find some surprises during the standard matchups.”

  So, even the standard gameplay would be getting more complicated. Against the best teams in the world. Could they raise the bar any higher?

  “The matchups will be taking place every Saturday night. It will air during our most popular segment, Saturday Night Gaming, hosted by Howie Fulton and Marcus Ryan. Unfortunately, they were unable to join us tonight, as they were too busy announcing the team reveals from the studio and losing their minds.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Look around the room,” Diana encouraged. “This is the competition.”

  Everyone did as she asked, scoping out the other players. Most eyes fell on K-Rig, standing together, poised as if ready for a photo shoot. Were these guys ever out of character?

  “There have been incredible matchups in the VGL and other gaming leagues,” Diana continued, “but this tournament will be unlike anything anyone has seen before. We can say with almost guaranteed certainty that the entire world will be watching. Let’s give them the greatest show they’ve ever seen.”

  Everyone clapped again. Even me.

  Diana
stepped away from the balcony, and the evening resumed as the rest of the crowd in the ballroom returned to eating and conversing. From above, the social dynamics of the ballroom didn’t seem that different from those of a high-school cafeteria. It was subtle, but there were empty gaps of space between the teams, where they had divided themselves into cliques by their country of origin.

  I pushed a breath through my lips and headed down the steps. Time to get to know the opposition. I descended the stairs and marched right past the American clique. If no one else was taking advantage of getting to know their opponents from the other continents, I certainly would.

  I crossed the room into European territory and walked straight up to one of the teams.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m Kali Ling, Team—”

  “Defiance,” one of them said, shaking my hand. They knew me? Looks like my skills were known outside of the States.

  “I’m Erik Lager,” the handshaker said. “This is my team, Eon.”

  The rest of Eon all nodded at me. I smiled back at them. While Erik failed to tell me where they were from, I thought I recognized his accent.

  “You from Sweden?”

  “Good guess.” He looked honestly impressed. His gaze flicked past me, and he nodded to the background. “I see you’re back with your boyfriend.”

  I glanced behind me to find Rooke across the room, next to the buffet with Hannah. She was gabbing away, plucking bits of chocolate and fruit off the trays and popping them into her mouth. Rooke stood rigidly beside her, not reaching for any of the food, not talking, barely moving at all. God, he looked uncomfortable. Rooke was never one to shine in a roomful of people. He was more of an I’ll-be-reading-a-book-in-my-room kind of a guy. And, there went my theory of the Europeans knowing me for my skills. Guess it was my love life that had tipped them off.

  “We’re not—”

  “Is that a marketing ploy?” Erik smiled. “Nice.”

  The grin on his face wasn’t a condescending one, but he didn’t look like he was going to believe otherwise, either.

  “What do you play?” I asked him, changing the subject.

  “Intressesfär.”

  Even with the Swedish pronunciation, I knew the game he was talking about. Americans called it “The Sphere” or “Those Crazy Fuckers.” It was like extreme roller derby, with a ball, gone virtual. It was played in complete darkness. Only the ball, the track lines, and bits of the players’ armor glowed as they raced around in a 360-degree sphere, trying to score by whipping the ball with their bare hands into a tiny pocket space not much bigger than the ball itself. It was one of the most intense games in the pro circuit since players could bite the virtual death while playing. Gameplay was three times faster than real life and sometimes upside down, so falling on their heads wasn’t out of the question. Neither was slamming into each other at faster than full speed. The only thing that topped it in terms of brutality were the fighting games, like RAGE, and even a few versions of those fell short on casualties in comparison.

  “Have you played it?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “We don’t have that game in the States.”

  “I see.” He leaned toward me. “So, it’s a little too rough for you Americans.”

  He winked.

  Oh, let the trash talking begin.

  “Really?” I grinned, and stepped up to him. “Plug into the RAGE arena sometime and we’ll see who’s too rough for whom.”

  His team erupted into a choir of ooooo’s.

  Erik didn’t back down.

  His gaze swept over my face, and his grin grew wider than I’d ever seen it. He was impressed. This time, it wasn’t because of my love life.

  Sweden, meet the warrior.

  “Well, we’ve got to mingle,” he said, taking a step back from me. He nodded at his team, and they started to drift away. “See you around.”

  They disappeared into the thick of the European clique, leaving me standing alone. Although everyone was facing each other, somehow it seemed like they were also facing away from me. Well, that wasn’t bad, but things hadn’t gone as well as I’d hoped, either.

  Footsteps walked up behind me.

  “Don’t let the Europeans fool you. They act casual, but they’re just as competitive as anyone.”

  I turned to find Cole standing behind me with a drink in his hand.

  “Giving me tips?” I asked. “Aren’t I the competition now?”

  He smiled. “Can’t we still be friends?”

  My heart went a little soft. He might not have liked our team or me as management, but at least he was being professional about the whole thing. I could, too. Like he’d said, sometimes it just wasn’t the right fit. And he’d been a teammate, even if just for a short while. I wanted what was best for all of them, even if it wasn’t with my team.

  I glanced back at the Europeans. “I didn’t realize my love life was news overseas.”

  “It’s not,” he said. “They know about Rooke because they’ve already been studying you.”

  Already?

  I shook my head. “But the teams were just revealed an hour ago.”

  “Like I said.” He nodded again at the Europeans. I turned and looked at them, really looked. They casually glanced at the cell phones wrapped around their wrists, as if just checking the time. But then one of them would nudge another, point at something on the screen, then at one of the other teams. As my gaze flicked from one set of hands to the next, I witnessed one player pass a small bag to another. The color combination was unmistakable. Red on yellow. Blue on red. Hits of HP.

  “They’re already playing the game.” Cole took a sip of his drink. Apparently, he’d missed the drug exchange. “Sizing each other up.”

  I shrugged. “Guess that’s how they became the best in the world.”

  “You really want to talk about the best in the world?” He motioned off to the side. I looked in the same direction and landed on black clothes, blacker tattoos, and ice-blue eyes.

  K-Rig.

  They stood alone, other than the security and other personnel buzzing around them. Arms crossed, still posed like they were in a photo shoot, they spoke only occasionally to each other. Well, if I was going to meet the competition, might as well jump into the deep end. I started walking toward them when Cole grabbed my arm.

  “You’re not actually going over there, are you?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.

  “They’re just people,” I said. “Like anyone else here.”

  Cole didn’t look too sure, but he released my arm.

  “Good luck.”

  Luck. Although I kept reassuring myself that K-Rig was just another team, something told me I’d need it. With every step, my mouth grew a little drier, my chest a little tighter, like I was in the presence of royalty and wasn’t sure how to act.

  Three steps away from them, a hand came up in front of my face.

  “Whoa.” A man in a suit sidestepped into my path. “Can I help you?”

  He was Korean, only a little taller than I was, and spoke smooth English, with only a faint hint of an accent. Their translator, maybe? I glanced between him and K-Rig, who failed to make eye contact.

  “Just looking to shake hands, I guess.”

  “So are a lot of people,” he said.

  Ouch. Elitist much?

  The translator cleared his throat and raised his chin slightly, so he was looking down at me, despite being only a few inches taller.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, sounding anything but sorry. “I thought we were all in the competition together.”

  “It’ll be a competition for some.”

  I clenched my fists together behind my back. It was the safest place for them.

  My gaze flicked back to K-Rig, who stood motionless, staring endlessly forward. A realm beyond anyone else. They were cele
brities of the celebrities. The one percent of the one percent.

  How perfect.

  The translator stepped into my field of vision again.

  “Maybe you should go.”

  Maybe I should punch you in the throat.

  I stepped back but kept my fists behind me, despite my nails digging into my skin. Like K-Rig, the translator—or bodyguard, whoever he was—didn’t falter. He wasn’t going to let me through, and I wasn’t about to show him why they call me the warrior. I was calmer than that now. There were a lot of witnesses in the room, too, but that had nothing to do with it. I glanced once more at K-Rig, still motionless. Every stance they took was practiced. Every breath passing through their chest was rehearsed. They trained to absolute perfection, in the real world and the virtual one.

  Then there was me, Kali Ling. Former party girl and tabloid fodder. Quick to anger and even quicker to overreact. If there was a way to fuck things up, I usually found it and invited it in to party. I’d accomplished a few things in my short career. But next to K-Rig, I was a low-class wannabe.

  So much for getting to know the competition.

  I wandered away, lost in thought. The room was a blur as I drifted through the crowd, weaving between the teams. A few of them called out to me.

  “Hey, Defiance. How did you get into this competition?”

  “Kali Ling? What are you doing here? Aren’t there higher-rated teams in the U.S.?”

  “Isn’t this your first year as team owner? Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  I smiled and laughed off their comments. K-Rig wasn’t the only one putting on a show. Inside, I was drowning. I moved aimlessly through the room, a fish caught in the current, until I blinked and found myself standing next to the windows again, overlooking that magnificent view. Wispy clouds stretched across the moon, splintering the moonlight into fractured spotlights over the midnight-blue landscape. Waves lapped at the water’s edge, but the lazy, rippling motion did nothing to calm the storm in my churning stomach.

  What the hell were we doing here? I was proud of my team, and of my own accomplishments, but we didn’t belong in this room of the elite. We were five years away from this level of competition, at least. I glanced over the room again. Over the European teams already studying us. Over K-Rig not even acknowledging our existence. Then to Jessica Salt, who was expecting me to take her place. Even more than that, the VGL had promised a competition unlike anything the world had seen before, and they weren’t just talking about bringing all the world’s teams together. The final marathon round was created specifically to push us to our absolute limits, and even the standard matchups would be full of surprises. What had I signed up for?